


5 Things Beth Doesn't Understand and 1 Thing That She Does

by doreah



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Fic, 5+1 Things, F/F, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doreah/pseuds/doreah
Summary: She expects in ten years it'll just be the two of them stood here in the sand, huddling in vain against sea breezes and haphazardly pushing their hair back from their faces, thinking about Dan. She still can't figure out why Ellie is always featured. She just is.





	1. One.

There's a cold, wet wind tearing down the shoreline as Fred and Lizzie dig their hands deep into damp sand. Her youngest daughter, always the princess, squeals loudly when a wash of sea spray leaps up from the ocean and drapes them all in misty salt. She looks so much like Mark when her face scrunches up like that and it causes Beth Latimer's chest to tighten just briefly because his absence is obvious and gaping. It hurts and gnaws at something deep inside her heart. There are other absences too. Chloe is off up Bristol for uni ( _finally!_ ), and she hasn't come home yet to visit; nobody knows if she ever will. Tom is gone too. Something about football practice and when Ellie tells her he has plans, a sneer overtakes her face before she can reign in back in because nobody else seems to care anymore.

  


It's Danny's birthday. She doesn't want to celebrate his death, no, only his birth but they've basically come to mean the same thing now. There's something about mourning during a birthday that fills the entire day with dread. Every day is a remembrance of his death, just sometimes it lasts for hours and sometimes only briefly. Today is an all day affair. A pity party, even. She's been preparing for a whole year and is ready.

  


It's expected really, if Beth is going to be honest with herself. Eventually people stop caring, even people that loved Danny. It fades out like after waking from a bad dream. But the hole left by Mark, Chloe and Tom's absence is palpable. Entirely too much like an open wound. Not even Paul is around this time, and Paul was one her last real friends. Alec Hardy is around somewhere, and he joined them once or twice, but never again. His presence at this time is only a reminder of all the bad things.

  


It's just her, Lizzie, Fred, and of course Ellie. Ellie Miller is always here, just off to the side, waiting, patient and the part of Beth's heart that aches because of all that is missing feels a little bit better with that comfort.

  


She had wondered how long it was going to take for people to forget about Dan. She pictures herself down at the beach, in ten years time. She won't even know Mark's phone number; he'll be disappeared completely, another ghost in her collection. Chloe? Well, she'll have graduated uni, moved in with a boy in the city, maybe even have a career and a family of her own. A baby boy, just weaned and ready to take on the world. Danny's name tattooed on her wrist will have blurred and stretched with time, faded just like his memory. Lizzie, who never knew Dan aside from the grief he left behind, will complain and insist that getting a 99 with her friends is far more important than being boring and crying on a beach just like they do every year. Tom, like Chloe, will be elsewhere probably. Maybe finishing a Masters degree, maybe not (probably not, really). But he'll be doing everything that her son will never get the chance to do. Fred's a wildcard but it's still a fair assessment that he'll be off too. Somewhere.

  


Yeah, Beth pictures all that. It's realistic. It's probably the way things'll go. The funny thing is that she pictured all the ghosts slipping away, one by one. Each year fewer and fewer people. But not Ellie. Even through that horrible year, Joe's trial, for some reason, Ellie was always in her vision. She expects in ten years it'll just be the two of them stood here in the sand, huddling in vain against sea breezes and haphazardly pushing their hair back from their faces. She still can't figure out why Ellie is always featured. She just is. She's just _there_. Always.

  


A shadow crosses her vision and Ellie's face comes into view against the hazy sun. Big, brown eyes are concerned, obviously, because they've been stood here for quite a while and she's said nothing at all, done nothing at all which is a contrast to her usual storytelling on this day, at this place.

  


“You all right?”

  


Beth nods, in a sheepish sort of way, like she's been caught out doing something she's not meant to. She also doesn't understand why she feels that way either when Ellie looks at her just so. She can feel the flush rising to her cheeks but silently blames it on the sting of the autumn wind instead.

  


Fred lobs a fistful of wet sand at Lizzie's small castle and she yelps at him, tossing a worn rock back at him. Ellie's attention is momentarily diverted as she scolds her son, her hair whipping into her face as she swats it back to face him eye to eye.

  


It's such a little thing but Beth watches and waits, allows Ellie to calm the squabbling children. As Fred sulks, she straightens up and moves back nearer to Beth. For her part, she can feel herself gravitate towards Ellie's strength, like it's pulling at her, like a magnet. And the thing is: it feels safe and good and so unlike the desolate beach they're standing on. Their eyes meet for a moment and Ellie offers a smile of reassurance. Beth returns it, and means it.

  


She thinks that even if it's just Ellie from now on, that'll be enough.


	2. Two.

It's been a really long time since Beth has felt jealousy. So long in fact she's not entirely sure that's what it is when she really has a think on it. Yeah, no, it's not jealousy because there's no reason to be jealous about anything anymore. There's been no need for her to be jealous since school. Well, and maybe Becca Fisher. That was a big pile of shit, that was. And it turns out that she had no reason to be jealous cos, by that point, there had been nothing really left of her and Mark anyway.

 

She looks down at her left hand and it feels odd for a moment. Naked. She'd taken her wedding band off a long while ago, when she kicked Mark out years back. She'd signed the divorce papers soon after he left that final time, and her solicitor said Mark signed back, and the whole thing was over. Just like that. She would be lying if it didn't feel like a relief. But it also felt heavy, lonely and hopeless. In her dreams of the future—one without Dan and without Mark—there is no ring ever again. In truth, she doesn't really want there to be. Not again. Once was hard enough and she's not sure she'll ever be strong enough to go through it again.

 

The problem is that, well, there's something growling about in her belly and she's not sure she likes it. It's making her edgy and short. It doesn't help that she's looking after Fred like she's running some sort of drop-in creche and he's getting on Lizzie's nerves again, as he does more and more often now. Tom's plenty old enough to babysit but he's too busy, of course. Busy having a life, busy skateboarding, busy sneaking a cider in the bushes, busy getting a cheeky Nando's just like every other boy his age. Just like Danny should be doing as well. They should be doing it together. So, yes, Beth does feel a pang of jealousy on Danny's behalf, for all the things he could have been.

 

But there's something that stretches beyond that. It seeps into her veins and makes her feel just a wee bit itchy at her own thoughts, like they're trying to wriggle free of her.

 

And it only started tonight. In fact, it only started about 3 hours back, at precisely the time Ellie came round with Fred in tow. That's what they do now though. They are just there for each other. For child minding, for company, for support. And when they're chatting at the door, Ellie's got this silly smile on her face like she's actually excited about something. Proper excited. And Beth wants all the details about whatever it is but Ellie turns down a cuppa, saying she has to get on, that she's already late.

 

“To what?”

 

And it's in that moment when Ellie glances away—just for a second—that Beth knows she's not going to get a full answer because Ellie suddenly has a life beyond their friendship. She's always known that, of course she has because Ellie has a family, a job, friends, coworkers just like any normal person.

 

But it stings all the same.

 

It stings even more when Ellie actually does give her an answer. “Hardy has this thing at the pub...” And Beth doesn't really care about the rest of it. She's too busy wondering when life moved on and left her stuck in the slow lane, babysitting two kids on a warm Friday night with a ready meal cooling in the microwave.

 

“Well, have fun, then,” she hears herself saying, not really minding how miserable it sounds. “See you later.”

 

It's only when she lies down on the sofa after tucking Lizzie in and finally wrangling Fred into Chloe's old bed that the hot, squirmy feeling comes back again. Somewhere in her throat maybe, but it churns in her stomach too. It's the name. _Hardy_. And Beth can't for the life of her figure out why it bothers her so bloody much that Ellie is out, having a pint with her boss—and best friend presumably. (Maybe more.) There have always been the rumours and it makes sense, sort of... if you don't really know Ellie. (Maybe she doesn't.) Either way, it's not like it's news that Hardy and Ellie are a special sort of pair, or that they often are out together. DI Hardy has no friends other than her. It's a small town and people talk mostly cos there's fuck all else to do.

 

Yet it bothers her so much that when Ellie stops in late that night to collect Fred, she feigns a headache and promises to drop him at school the next morning instead of waking him. No need for Ellie to come in. She notes that as Ellie leaves, she gets in the waiting taxi and not in her own car.

 

The next morning, she brushes off the previous night's stupidity as exhaustion and plasters on a smile when she sees Ellie at the school grounds with Fred's packed lunch and change of clothes. It's like nothing ever happened and that's all Beth ever thinks about it again.

 

 


	3. Three.

The sun is just barely peeking through a dark, heavy coat of rain clouds when Beth begins her walk towards the police station. It's been a week of grey skies and constant drizzle which has been great for the spring flowers but not so uplifting for everyone's moods. She hustles more quickly at the threat looming just over the horizon. As a pick me up, she suggested a nice, long lunch at the new cafe near the beach. Everybody in town is raving about the Dorset sausage pasties and home-brewed ciders. Sounds like a nice break from the drudge of work any way.

 

The door squeals loudly as she yanks a bit too hard on it, making her wince. It hasn't changed since she'd walked through it back when... Well, it was a long time ago.

 

It feels toasty and seems too quiet in the lobby after the screaming winds down the high street and Beth pauses, shaking off a feeling she has yet to place. Instead, it settles into her bones, and her palms feel damp and warm. She flexes her hands a few times and wills it away. In complement, her heart seems to have taken a cue to race just a bit faster the longer she stalls.

 

It's probably the chill of the wind, she assures herself. Got all the blood rushing around or something. She had walked at a brisk pace after all. A rolling flush begins to colour her cheeks into a deeper pink. Wind burn. Only wind burn. With a deep breath, she steadies her hands and straightens her shoulders back. It's only baps with Ellie. No reason to have a panic attack today.

 

The lift doors open and her shoes echo through the corridor amongst all the other bustle of a busy police station. She probably knows some of these halls better than she should, escorting victims of crimes to and from various rooms for various reasons, all of which are sad. It's like a second home for an ISVA, unfortunately. Well, perhaps a third home. Number one is of course her own home, then comes Ellie's tiny cottage, then the nick. It is pretty sad to think about her own life in such a way.

 

For a moment, she feels nerves sweep through her legs and honestly thinks, however irrationally, about turning around and walking right out again for some reason. No reason. The fact that she is in police headquarters and it's rife with CCTV cameras makes her acutely aware of the potential embarrassment of being caught like that. It's daft, she chides herself. And it makes no bloody sense.

 

Instead, she breathes out long and slowly and continues towards the bullpen where Ellie is certain to be at this time of day, if she's not out hunting down a criminal—which she's normally not because there simply aren't that many hard criminals in a town this size. (She knows this because of a long-formed habit. She's somehow made it a regular occurrence to show up at Ellie's desk with a coffee from the tiny cafe down the road that is so much better than the stale quick brew here. Or sometimes a bite from the chippy down the harbour—the good one that Gemma owns with John's fresh catch, not the posh one meant for all 500 of the holidaymakers that imports its shit haddock from Norway or summat. Of course, sometimes she'll grab a cuppa for DI Hardy as well. He's told her too many times now to stop calling him Alec. It's “too weird, Mrs. Latimer”. To which she always replies, “Beth, please, DI Hardy. I'm not a Mrs.” _Anymore_. She has the empty ring-finger to prove it.) So, between coffee breaks and victim assistance, she's here more than she'd really like to be.

 

It's the moment when Ellie looks up from her paperwork, and her face just sort of brightens at the sight of her friend (or maybe the promise of hot coffee held too tightly in said friend's white-knuckled hand) that Beth feels something flutter in her gut, and in her chest. It's too odd to really concern herself with because it's fairly unfamiliar but also pleasant in a way. A relic perhaps from years long— _too_ long ago when Mark would show up at her mam's and he'd smile in that cheeky way of his and they'd sneak off onto the heath near the old quarry. But now when she thinks of that smile, she can only see Danny.

 

Beth can't help herself when her own face lights up, a smile spreading widely across her lips and moves quickly towards Ellie. It's almost as if the rest of the room fades a bit. She places the coffee cup down and goes on about the type it is. It's got chocolate and whipping cream and crunchy caramel bits or something because she knows Ellie loves her sweets. Meanwhile, Ellie's just grinning at her like it's the best thing she's seen all day. Judging by the pile of boring looking papers on her desk, it very well may be.

 

As she hesitates just for a moment in her recounting of the ordeal of placing the order, she catches a glimpse of Alec in her periphery. He's watching them curiously, almost as if he's sussing something out but Beth doesn't have time to think on it because Ellie's already out of her seat and pulling on her orange jacket, saying something about ordering every possible sarnie on the menu.

 

Coffees in hand, they're briskly walking out and Beth can feel, just for the briefest of moments, Ellie's guiding hand warm on the small of her back. And it feels quite nice.

 

 

 


	4. Four.

Summer can be both wonderful and aggravating as the harbour is crawling with pleasure boats, the beach is packed with grockles, and the holiday park is overrun with caravans. Even their little secret pubs, the type that are farther off high street and aren't so seaside holiday kitschy, have strange faces in them. Sometimes the tourists can be a godsend, and especially when she wants to get drunk in company and not have questioning stares when she walks into the shops on Monday morning. It's the perfect night for that.

 

Of course she's not alone. She's never alone anymore when she doesn't want to be. Ellie's here too, off to her right yelling a drinks order across the bar to the teenage bartender. It's Lowen's boy, a few years above Dan but they played on the same football team for one season years ago. A solid kid with a good head and Beth thinks it's a bit of a shame for him to be relegated to bar service of a bunch of pissed up middle-aged holidaymakers.

 

She can't help but watch the confident way Ellie commands attention, the way her body stiffens forwards and her eyes lock onto her target. Lowen's boy (What's his name anyway? Ruan? Ryan?) for his part is attentive to all of Ellie's requests as if he's afraid of being nicked. She probably shouldn't stare as much but she can't help it. The white wine has gone straight to her head apparently.

 

Sliding a tenner across the sticky, wet bar, Ellie takes hold of another glass of white and her own cider, turning to Beth with a triumphant grin. Beth takes the glass, letting her fingers graze Ellie's in thanks.

 

“Cheers, darling,” Ellie trills, a little drunk already, raising her pint glass. “To a night without the little shits!”

 

Beth's laugh bounces over the din as she clinks their drinks. “Or the big ones!”

 

They both take generous gulps before moving away from the bar as that location is known to flash a neon sign to any single men that they're interested, and Beth certainly isn't. She can't speak for Ellie of course, and her stomach seems to twist up a bit with the thought, but it doesn't appear like she is. It's a girl's night. Girls only. Beth grabs ahold of Ellie's sleeve with her free hand as they weave through the throngs of drunk 'makers.

 

Half of her wine is gone before they even make it to a free table against the wall. There are so many unfamiliar faces in the dim light of the old pub and it gives Beth a sense of relief, both because it's such a rare occurrence to be out of the house like this and because of the company.

 

Ellie's talking about Tom's new preoccupation with his smartphone and something called Towaga. It doesn't make any sense to Beth but it sounds better than porn anyway. Sometimes the kid talk grates on Beth's nerves because there's surely more to their lives than their kids and their jobs. So, she changes the subject. They talk about anything else (town gossip, memories of their early 20s, failed attempts at surfing in Bantham, whatever catches their fancy) and it feels bloody wonderful and freeing.

 

She doesn't know what drink number she's on when tequila shots seem like the best idea they've had all night. It makes her feel 22 again as the sour burn hits the back of her throat. Beth's not sure she's felt this elated in years. After the third shot, they're giggling like teenagers, oblivious to any of the other patrons, who—if Beth even bothered to care—are likely just as bladdered.

 

After squeezing some lime juice onto her hand, Ellie carelessly sifts some salt onto it as well and Beth can't help but guffaw at the backwards method her friend employs. Her breath hitches however when Ellie smiles, licks her hand and throws back her remaining tequila. She scrunches her nose, lets out a soft sort of roar as she swallows hard, and Beth swallows too because suddenly she has a hard lump in her throat that could be nausea or something else entirely.

 

Ellie makes a comment about some time before—a _long_ time ago—before Tom, before Joe Miller, before Danny and she's beaming.

 

In that hazy, drunken moment Beth can't really help it. She's had a lot of wine, and probably even more tequila now. Her cheeks are deep pink and hot, and heavy warmth is spreading down through her chest, settling low and burgeoning in her abdomen. Ellie's smiling so much that her skin glows even in the angular shadows, but there's a sadness in her eyes that glistens just a little bit as the low yellow light hits her face. Beth knows that too well.

 

She truly can't help herself when it happens because she just _knows_ and _feels_ and that's all the explanation she can come up with. It's not a surge or a crash or anything dramatic like that. (Beth's had enough drama to last a lifetime.) But nevertheless, it all happens in the blink of an eye. One moment she's smiling back, watching the dull light glint off sad brown eyes. The next, she feels her lips touch Ellie's, not hard and not soft but she lingers there a bit too long for it to be merely friendly.

 

In the shadows, pulling back, she's not sure what to expect because she's not sure why she did that. A lot of unreadable thoughts seem to pass over Ellie's face, her eyes clouding with confusion, and just briefly, Beth's certain that she's managed to muck this up forever. Of course though, Ellie being Ellie (especially being drunk Ellie) leaps over her momentary hesitation and laughs. It's a proper loud laugh like Beth's just told the best joke she's ever heard and her eyes are soft again, like the whole silly thing is over and done.

 

Beth grins as well, although she's not sure she understands the joke, if there was one.

 


	5. Five.

Fred is screaming bloody murder as Beth rushes into her kitchen in the early morning after her run, face flushed and sweaty. He's sat at the table, throwing a fit over some white mush in his hard-boiled egg and Tom is snapping angrily at him as Ellie idly scolds them both from where she's preoccupied with the tea kettle and Thermos. Lizzie, her darling girl, is quietly munching on her dippy egg and soldiers whilst the chaos swirls around her. She's taken to school like a fish to water and it's only been a week since the beginning of term. Meanwhile Fred's a tiny bundle of rage at the prospect of having to sit still for even an hour and Tom's already stressed by his A-levels mostly it seems because they involve neither skateboarding, cursing, nor video games.

 

Beth steps around the mess of boiled egg and teenage testosterone, kissing her daughter on the top of her head, and sidles up to Ellie.

 

“Tea?” Ellie asks cheerily, handing a steaming mug (a bit of cream, no sugar) to Beth with a smile. Despite the small war happening over her shoulder, Ellie's quite relaxed.

 

“Cheers,” Beth mutters, trying for the same morning glee as her friend seems to have. “All right?”

 

Ellie takes a long sip of her own tea and grins over the rim of the mug, eyes sparkling. “I get to actually be a detective today. Got a call.”

 

“That's great, Elle.” There's the nervous flip of her stomach at the news because if Ellie's busy doing proper detective work, it's another potential victim for her to support through the most difficult time of their lives. Which, of course, is rewarding and fulfilling but it is draining, especially if it's a Broadchurch local. The screaming match Fred is having with his egg and by proxy his brother is doing her head in and Ellie can see the wince. She snaps loudly and Fred immediately shuts his gob, stuffing it with baked beans instead. Tom's phone blares out some annoying video game song as he stabs furiously and intently at it.

 

The Millers all had stayed over and at this point they don't even keep track of why. But she does know they ate a lot of pizza last night. The sofa is still a tip from where Tom slept. She expects Chloe's bed is nicely made as Ellie always made a point of that. She doesn't even want to think about Dan's room and whatever horrors Fred's left behind. Lizzie seems to particularly enjoy these sleepovers since not only does she get brothers but also gets to share her mam's big comfy bed.

 

Tom grabs a packed lunch from the row of them on the table and slings his backpack over his shoulder with a huff. “I'm off then,” he announces in a mad dash for the door. And before Ellie can hug him goodbye he's got his hand on the knob. “Bye, mum.” He's as sullen as she's ever seen him.

 

“Have fun, love!” Ellie calls out but he's already gone.

 

The sudden quiet makes them both pause for a moment. Ellie glances over at the kids, then down at her tea, then up at Beth. She doesn't look nearly as chuffed anymore.

 

“Got a meeting today as well. Someone lodged a complaint.” It's whispered almost like a secret.

 

Beth feels her her smile fall in a flash. She knows well enough that the wrong complaint at the wrong time could mean serious trouble. “Against you? Oh, Elle, _why_?”

 

The older woman shrugs her shoulders but there's worry written all over her face now. “Not sure. Reckon it's the parents of the kid that overdosed last month.”

 

Suddenly Beth is surprising herself with a barrage of indignant words, most of which she's not even certain make any sense but she can feel the anger riling up inside her gut at the very insinuation that Ellie would do anything _that_ wrong. (She knows Ellie's not perfect. That's been made abundantly clear but Beth's sure she can't have done anything worthy of censure lately.) Her mouth is just running away with itself and she's helpless to stop it. There's something odd and pushy keeping her going that she doesn't get at all until finally her own ears catch up with her mouth.

 

“...what right, though? As if you lot could control what someone puts in their bodies, yeah?”

 

With a grimace, Ellie nods, staring blankly at her tea. “It's all right. It'll be all right. We're quite accustomed to grieving parents taking it out on us.”

 

Beth knows that Ellie didn't mean the comment to sting but it does all the same because that's literally what she had done, for months on end. She lashed out against the people closest to her and especially the one woman that should have seen it, being police and all. Her spine straightens as the hairs on her neck bristle. As if sensing the impact of her words, Ellie sighs and looks sheepishly towards Beth. “Sorry.”

 

Closing her eyes, she feels her whole body relax with the apology, even though she's the one who should still be apologizing for making Ellie feel like a complete shit for almost a year for the same base reason these parents are going after the police now (and yet Ellie never gave up on her. She still doesn't understand why not). She thinks about all her training, all the psychology lessons she took for dealing with victims and their families. She knows both objectively and from personal experience that the anger is misplaced and the complaint that Ellie's about to face at work isn't fair. Between her own rolling rage and the sheer injustice of it all, that indignation on Ellie's behalf has started to brew all over again. “If you need—I mean I'm meant to be in Weymouth later but I'll come in and speak on your behalf. I've got all the literature. I can explain why—”

 

“I know, Beth.” She touches her hand softly in thanks. “It'll be fine. It's probably just a formality.” She rinses out the mug and puts it in the drying rack before stepping around Beth and Lizzie to grab Fred's lunch. “Come on, young man. Off we go,” she calls, pulling back his chair and dumping him off it. (The kid would never leave the table if he had a choice of his own.)

 

She pats Lizzie's blonde mop of hair fondly, careful not to muss it up. “Have fun at school, sweetie.” There's something about the way Ellie tenderly handles both Chloe and Lizzie (their moods, their mistakes, their cuts and scrapes) that makes Beth certain that she'd always secretly wanted a daughter as well. Fred's managed to stuff half a banana in his mouth and as he calls out a goodbye to Beth, bits spew out at Lizzie's feet who scowls.

 

Beth moves forward and pushes an already prepared Thermos of hot tea towards her friend (Ellie is always thinking 3 steps ahead of Beth. Probably why she's a detective.). When Ellie juggles the packed lunch, Fred's school bag, and his sticky hand in her grip, Beth walks it over to make life just a tiny bit easier.

 

They pass the Thermos between them and for a moment, both pause awkwardly. Beth knows why she does, sort of. Well, she knows what feels missing. It's just all the domesticity of the situation getting the better of her judgment. It's a reflex probably, for them both. It's the moment that she would expect a quick peck as goodbye but their eyes lock instead. This is Ellie, not Mark, and that would be well strange. Although truthfully, maybe not much stranger than this inexplicable awkwardness.

 

She shakes her head to clear the confused haze around her and laughs, a bit forced. “Good luck, Elle.”

 

“You too,” and she offers a genuine smile in return. The weird feeling fizzles out as Ellie and Fred leave the house.

 

Beth distracts herself by picking up Lizzie's dirty, crumb and egg-smeared plate, dumping it in the sink. “Go on then, babber. Get your lunch and let's get you to school.”

 

As they walk up the path to the car and she can see Fred's petulant scuff marks all along the way, that feeling from before—like something is missing or hasn't happened but should—sneaks its way back into her bones and this time she can't shake it no matter how many times she tries.

 

 


	6. Six

For months (maybe years?) it never made sense. Well, all that time, it was one of _many_ things that never made sense. Some of those things still don't make sense but this one does. She's figured it out. Sort of. Now her nerves are calm, her eyelids heavy, and her heart lighter. The TV is on Netflix, murmuring some BBC comedy that she really couldn't give a toss about but there's sod all on at this time of night, or time of year. New Year's Eve just passed a few days back and the parties are dying down, although you can't tell from the young people. Even Tom is out at a mate's for the 3 rd night in a row.

 

Chloe pads down the stairs, dressed up and ready to head out. It's been nice having her home for a little while before second term starts. “Mum, I'm going out,” she states plainly, without even a hint of hesitation, and why not? She's 19, almost 20, now and a grown up—or so she says. Surely it's a regular occurrence at university anyway.

 

For a second, Beth almost just blindly acquiesces but thinks better of it at the last second. Even in Broadchurch, you can't be too careful. “Where you to?”

 

“Out with Daisy and the lads. Down the pub probably.” Beth trusts her daughter enough to know that it likely will be the pub. It's always the pub now. Chloe shoots off that cheeky smirk she inherited from her dad. “Don't wait up, yeah?”

 

Beth's voice lowers in warning, but her cheeks pink just slightly at the idea of a house without only soundly sleeping children and no nosy teenagers. “Chlo...”

 

“Night, Mum,” her daughter trills innocently as she picks up her purse from the table. As she heads out the door, she adds, “Night, Ellie.”

 

“Be safe, love.”

 

Leave it to Ellie to be the pragmatic one. _Well, she's going to go anyway. May as well be smart about._ Beth can almost hear the voice in her head. Instead however, Ellie's voice is softer. “She'll be fine, Beth. She's with Daisy and you know no one messes with Hardy.”

 

Sighing in response, Beth shifts a bit, repositioning her head on the small throw pillow on Ellie's lap. There are gentle fingers slowly stroking through her hair and the movement accomplishes its intention. Her eyes begin to close in relaxation and her voice drifts out dreamily. “I'm worried. _Always_. I'm always scared now.”

 

Instead of empty platitudes that they both know are meaningless these days, Ellie sighs herself. “Me too.” The telly laugh track blares very inappropriately as some irritating theme music starts up and it startles them both. “She'll be fine.”

 

Nobody really knows if that's the truth but like Pandora and that bloody box, all they've got left in all the shit is hope.

 

It's been difficult. Nothing seems to come as easy as it once had. Even walking alone at night through streets she can navigate blindfolded becomes an exercise in exceptional precaution and sharp awareness of every pair of footsteps. This was meant to be something plaguing the cities, not their little town. Danny... that was bad enough. Then came Trish, and all the others that were ripped out of the woodwork. Then came her job and all the horrors she was suddenly privy to that until that point had remained the stuff of nightmares and urban living, now strewn all across Dorset, Somerset and Devon. She knows everyone in town's looking over their shoulders all the time. Nothing will ever be the same. There is no feeling of safety left.

 

Except here.

 

Except right here in this small house full of children and comfort. Except right here with Ellie tucked in warmly beside her, breathing steadily and sure. And it's not just because Ellie's an experienced detective and will literally fight just about anything if she has to (man, woman, livestock, inanimate object, doesn't bloody matter). And Ellie will fight even harder _for_ her. She trusts Ellie in a way that she had thought was impossible for her to do with anyone since Dan died. She trusts Ellie with her children too, and that's actually a huge deal. Every little inch of her body knows it's safe here and she really never wants to leave. She's protected, supported, loved.

 

That's what she understands finally. After dancing around it for so long, something previously incomprehensible happened. Something clicked. Something tiny and almost imperceptible switched on somewhere along the way. And it took a bloody long time (so long) but it's on now.

 

One day they were friends, best friends, really. The next thing she knew, they were more. She doesn't know how and she can't even quite remember when exactly, like, what precisely happened to change everything. But it did and she's in a new place, a place that is entirely unfamiliar, except it's in a good way. This new place is like a whole new family that has almost all the best parts of the old ones. They share everything, except, well, jogging. (Ellie refuses to run for fun but that's okay cos Beth never really wanted a partner for that activity.) They live in the same house but with more faces. There are two boys in her house, one the closest thing to Dan that she'll ever know again (who did have a problem with everything at first, understandably. It's a hard thing for a troubled 16-year-old to handle). And there's Ellie in the mornings and in the evenings and at the weekends when neither of them is on call and in her bed at night. Everything sort of just slips into place and it fits better than Beth ever would have expected.

 

Aside from Tom's rather unfortunate and drawn out response to the whole thing, Ellie took time off as well. Just a brief leave from the police. There had been so much she hadn't dealt with about Joe, and Danny, and Trish especially... and everything just came crashing down one day out the blue, as they were clearing up the dishes from tea after another row with Tom. Beth hadn't known what to do immediately but her training kicked in and all of a sudden she was in complete control of it all, a profoundly new and empowering feeling.

 

Alec had been by almost daily with a scotch egg or summat, if only to give Ellie somewhere to direct her pent-up sarcasm, complaints, and pointed barbs. (And no, she isn't jealous of DI Hardy any longer.) But it had been Beth who was there at night, during the tears and the nightmares and self-loathing and revisited traumas. It was only fair after she'd dumped so much rage and hatred on Ellie for months on end, and not once had Ellie given up on her. (Maybe most of that had been motivated by guilt, and Beth's still not certain her need to help isn't completely free from guilt either. But there's love in there too.) After a while, they started to piece everything back together, side by side by side. It works better that way instead of each of them bandaging only their own wounds. It is a work still in progress.

 

Now when Ellie smiles, it reaches her eyes. Almost always, anyway. Drunk or sober, Beth still has the urge to kiss her when she does grin like that, but not out of some deep, connective sadness anymore. Rather, she feels happy. Happier than she should be and sometimes that guilt weighs heavily on her too. But Dan wouldn't want them all to be miserable. He'd laugh, poke his tongue out, playfully kick his football at them. But he wouldn't be angry. Not her Danny boy. Not at her being happy finally... because she hasn't forgotten him. Nobody has.

 

Some nights, Hardy comes to dinner at her and Ellie's ( _theirs_ , Beth likes that) and still they know what brought them all together: his face grins down from an old IKEA frame on the wall, next to Tom and Chloe and Lizzie and Fred.

 

There's another photo she can see from where she is on the sofa. Danny and Tom at a football match, when they were 8 years old. (She remembers the day clearly.) Ellie's fingers are still steady and calm as they thread through her brown locks.

 

She crawls up until she's comfortable in Ellie's embrace, her own arms finding their way around the softness. Nestling against her, Beth lets out another contented sigh as she nuzzles against warm skin. There's a brush of lips against the crown of her head as Ellie's free hand pokes at the remote control, changing it off the terrible comedy. She hugs Ellie tighter, placing a soft kiss against her clavicle.

 

Eventually, Ellie lets out a small giggle. “Would it help you if I told you I put a tracker on Chlo's mobile?”

 

Beth has to push back to gauge the verity of the statement by Ellie's face, her green eyes boring into the other woman. Her heart was beating a bit faster with the excitement. “You didn't! How?” Chloe never lets that bloody thing out of her sight. She can't quite believe it.

 

There's another laugh and Ellie grins widely, her face glowing with pleasure. “Of course I didn't, you silly cow. I just wondered if it would help if I _said_ I did.” The cheek of her.

 

Still, she can't help the incredulous (and somewhat genuine) laugh from coming out. “You're horrible, Elle. You do know that, yeah?”

 

“I've been told as much,” Ellie shrugs, still beaming like an idiot.

 

And even now, she can't help herself. When she surges up and presses her lips to Ellie's, she doesn't have to worry anymore about whether it'll just be taken as a big joke, or worse. Instead she's greeted with a warm hand cradling her face and a soft, almost imperceptible sigh brushing over her lips as they separate. Then it's her chance to giggle as it bubbles up and out, happiness like a fountain that she just can't restrain. Her fingers, which had been tugging gently at the neckline of Ellie's top, loosen as she rests their foreheads together. Her laughter quietens but her smile doesn't fall completely.

 

Since Danny died, there seemed to be nothing but wrong turns everywhere she went, haunted constantly by the thick, choking shadow of grief. Each step forwards wasn't even two steps back; it was a dead end. Sometimes that's even worse, even more debilitating. Right into the darkness. She'd lose somebody or something else at every turn. That feeling is gone.

 

There's no fear in this moment. She thinks about how she's able to count on Ellie beside her at the beach on Dan's birthday even in twenty years time, about how she can kiss her goodbye on the way out the door and it's not weirdly loaded or awkward, about how she can be protective and defensive of Ellie without wondering why, about how she can be angry and needy and weak in front of her without fear of judgement, about how she can squash down any unfounded jealousy without difficulty, about how she now knows exactly the meaning of Ellie's smile when she shows up at the police station, coffees in hand. And in the absence of that fear and confusion is where she feels safe, certain.

 

Beth closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, feeling the rise and fall of Ellie's chest under her palms. She feels found.

 

 


End file.
